


twenty-six minutes

by mandadoration



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Robot Sex, Robot/Human Relationships, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:28:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23866036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandadoration/pseuds/mandadoration
Summary: Is it depraved of you to seek comfort in a reprogrammed Imperial droid?
Relationships: K-2SO/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 129





	twenty-six minutes

**Author's Note:**

> I lost… so much steam halfway through, but I persisted. This one’s for all you robot fuckers out there.

“You’re awfully squirmy.”

K-2SO says it so casually, as if you weren’t rutting yourself against the cold, but quickly warming, metal of his thigh, as if his hands weren’t pulling and pinching at your flesh, pulling you back against his chassis every time you tried to curl into yourself. It’s hard to get leverage; he’s so much taller than you are, and your toes barely brush the floor from where you sit in his lap, worsened by the fact K2 was sitting on the high meeting table, but your face is flushing and pleasure is curling in your belly. The positioning is definitely uncomfortable, but that’s pushed away when he tugs at your nipple in an almost curious manner, pulling a mewl from you. 

“Yeah?” you breathe. “That tends to happen when you’re,  _ ah _ , in a compromising position.” 

K-2’s limbs are long enough that he’s able to reach over to pull your Rebellion-issued pants off of you, along with your panties, with no trouble, tossing it across the room dismissively. Thankfully, you had the foresight to take off your shirt before, and you make sure it’s still within arms reach if someone were to walk in. K-2 lifts you up enough to hook your legs over his, pulling you flush against him, and spreads his legs so that your legs are forced to follow, and you whine when the cold air hits your pussy. You go to try and cover yourself with your hands, but he swats them away with a sharp slap. 

“‘Compromising’?” K-2 repeats back to you. “I have  _ no  _ idea what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t think it’s compromising that--” Your sentence breaks off when he threads his spindly fingers through your hair and pulls back until your neck is exposed, giving him more room to run his other hand down your body. You stay frozen in that position when he releases your hair, wincing only a little when a few strands get caught between the joints, letting K-2 use both hands to feel you up, and the shock of the cold metal of his hands makes your brain stutter. “That-- that--”

“That what?” K-2 asks. “That we’re currently in an empty meeting room doing things that will surely put both of us on probation, if not  _ ruin  _ our reputations?” He seems content on poking and prodding at you while he talks, and it seems like every time you have these  _ encounters  _ with K-2SO, he makes it his job to pry new noises from you. And honestly? You don’t even know if K-2  _ likes  _ you. You think it’s more of a… fascination. Of you yourself or just the mere fact you were an organic, you’re not sure. He doesn’t get  _ anything  _ out of this, besides the fact that you’re nearly powerless against him. He’s enough of a shithead bucket of bolts that you don’t doubt that he gets whatever weird form of droid pleasure from torturing you like this. Still, you’re too shy to bring it up, too insecure that if as soon as you voiced your worries, he would dismiss it and say that you were being stupidly human. 

“I-I guess so, yeah,” you mutter under your breath. You barely manage to smother a yelp when K2 practically manhandles you into a better position-- probably annoyed that you’re slipping. Which is not your fault, you’d like to add. It’s not your fault K-2SO was all limbs and has no real surface to perch yourself on. 

He’d probably slap you if he heard you say that out loud.

“Probation could, uh, put a damper on things; I’m not… I’m not sure?”

“Is there anything you’re sure of?” K-2 scoffs. He spreads his legs a little wider, taking yours with it, and digs his fingers into the meat of your thigh until you whine. Pleased with the response, he gives one last squeeze before releasing you. 

“A-aren’t you worried we’re gonna get caught?” you hiss at him, jolting when his fingers trail inwards until it brushes against your clit. Maker, you don’t even know what you’d do if you got caught. Your brain is too scrambled right not to think properly, and lying isn’t programmed in droids in case he would have to make up for the fact your brain is quickly turning into mush. K-2 is too much of a character to lie easily anyways. Cassian always complains that he’s not good at acting or lying, but too sassy to keep his mouth shut and let others talk for him. You hear a quiet, internal whirring from K-2 as he almost absentmindedly teases the outside of your entrance. But you know this motherfucker. 

Everything he does is deliberate and intentional. 

“The probability of us getting caught sits at 63% currently,” he says, “and rises with each  _ pathetic  _ moan you give.” He finally,  _ finally  _ sinks one, long digit into your aching hole, simultaneously shoving his fingers in your mouth as you’re mid-moan to cut you off. “46% now.” You want to be mad at him, but he presses down on your tongue to silence you, and you worry that if you spoke up, he’d stop completely. You wouldn’t put it past him to leave you here, aching and wanting. He’s done it before, and he’d do it again. The perks of being a droid is that he doesn’t care or have anything to deal with if your little rendezvous got interrupted. K-2 has nothing to worry about. All he thinks of is the next time he gets to fuck with you, mentally and physically, while you’re out here stressing over every little detail.

“K-2,” you say, garble, really, and thrust your hips up to try and urge him to do more than just lazily thrust his fingers in and out of you. If you could look at him, you’re sure he would be rolling his eyes at you and your lack of patience, but he seems to understand what you’re saying and slips in another finger next to you. You turn your head and spit his fingers out, moaning when he curls his fingers in you. 

“You do know that you tend to be loud when I pleasure you, right?” K-2 asks you bluntly, but he brings his spit-slick fingers down to rub at your clit anyways. 

“Don’t,” you gasp out, kicking your leg out and slipping down a little further, “don’t say like it’s a-a  _ chore _ .”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he says, “it  _ is  _ a chore.” You frown and try to hoist yourself back up. 

“Then why do you even--” K-2 shushes you with another curl of his fingers alongside a rough swipe up your clit that leaves you gasping, and you nearly slam your head against his torso as you straighten up. You bite your lip to stop the curse that wells up before it can get out. 

“It’s rude to interrupt people before they finish talking,” he scolds. Then after a moment, “It  _ is  _ a chore,” he repeats, “but I highly doubt that there are other people that would willingly let me do this to them.” 

Of course that was it. You can’t help be disappointed by his answer, but what else had you expected from someone like K-2SO of all people? Or droids, more accurately. Because of course this snarky, sarcastic reprogrammed Imperial droid would only be involved with you because  _ no one else would _ . Because you’re depraved and desperate for any affection that you’ll find it in a dismissive droid who probably would drop you at any given moment the second you he deems you uninteresting--

“I can practically  _ hear  _ you thinking,” K-2 says, his voice breaking through your thoughts. “Are you getting bored?” He slows down his movements, but you grind back down to meet him, and he resumes, stretching and scissoring you open until your toes curl. Eventually, he slips in a third finger, leaving you panting. The metal of K-2’s fingers are hard and unforgiving in your wet heat, but you suppose that’s why it’s all the more enticing. “I asked you a question.”

“No I’m not ‘getting bored’,” you grit out. Despite how you’ve been stuck in your own head and worrying, K-2 is  _ too  _ good at what he’s doing. Just a little more--

“Then what’s the matter?” 

“Nothing’s the matter, K-2, just-- c’mon, a little more?” you beg him. You really don’t want to have this conversation now. You cant your hips up, and try to look up at him with the best pleading eyes you can muster, pouting your bitten lips. 

“Something is obviously the matter,” he complains, looking down at you, but he speeds up and rubs your clit in a way he knows you like, forcing a gasp from you. “Remember to be quiet or we’ll get caught.” You bring a hand up to cover your mouth, the other to play with your breast as you focus on the wet sounds filling the air, the way K-2 is tireless in his movements, at how exposed and filthy you must look right now, having an Imperial droid finger fuck you in an empty meeting room at a Rebel base--

You keen high in your throat when you cum, and this time you actually do slam your head on the metal of his chassis. Instinctively, you try to bring your knees together as K-2 keeps insistently touching you as you ride out your orgasm, but your legs are still hooked around his, and he’s unmoving as you shake in his lap. 

“Twenty-six minutes,” K-2SO notes, then he picks you up by hooking his arms underneath your armpits, and sets you on the cold meeting table before handing you your shirt. 

“What?” you breathe out. Your head is still spinning as you try to get your bearings, and at least the cold of the table jolts you back to your senses a little. 

“It took you twenty-six minutes to reach orgasm this time,” he clarifies. K-2 bends down to pick up your discarded pants and underwear and tosses them at you. You barely manage to catch it before it smacks you in the face. 

“And that’s significant because… how?”

“Your average time to reach completion is twenty-three,” K-2SO says, once again, like that was the most obvious thing in the world. “So something  _ was  _ on your mind.” You sigh and tug on your pants. “You’re not a very good liar.”

“K-2, I really don’t want to talk about this right now,” you say to him, and you can’t help it, but your tone is short despite how your hands are still racked with the occasional tremor. 

“Really? I couldn’t tell,” he says dryly, watching you as you button up your shirt. You shoot him a nasty glare, but re-lace your boots and use the reflection of the smudged meeting table to make sure you looked presentable. Your hair is a mess and your face is flushed, but you doubt anyone would bring it up if you encountered them in the halls on the way back to your room. “If you ask me--”

“Well, I didn’t, so shut it, K-2,” you snap at him. You stomp towards the door before you can lace your other boot. “Go find Cassian and bother him for a while.” You’re being cold and just downright a bitch to K-2SO, you know, and you don’t doubt that he’ll vaguely tell Cassian about it, but your nerves are still buzzing and high strung, and you really,  _ really  _ don’t want to have this talk with him right now. If K-2 knew what was good for him, he’d leave it alone.

And as you shut the door behind you, you hear him say, “Ah, of course. Cassian. As if  _ he’d  _ listen to me.”


End file.
